


Group Therapy

by Defcon



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mahone POV, Multi, Poly, Sara & Lincoln & Mahone & Sucre/Michael, Short & Sweet, spoilers for 4x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defcon/pseuds/Defcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending to 4x10 ("The Legend") with the team comforting Michael after he receives bad news from the doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Group Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the scene in 4x10 where Michael collapses, and how every single team member is so concerned/worried about their boy, and tripping all over themselves to reassure him that they'll take care of things while he goes to the hospital and gets better. For the sake of this story we're pretending that Bellick's body doesn't get brought by the warehouse until the next morning.
> 
> (My working title for this fic was "Family Love Michael".)

When the phone rings Mahone and Linc are standing in front of the white board, talking in hushed tones about the path to Scylla. Behind them, at the table, Sucre has been blithely recounting the story of how he’d ended up on a mine to Michael and Sara. From his slightly too-wide smile and expansive arm movements it’s clear to Mahone that Fernando is not yet OK with what just happened to him, but it’s to his credit that he’s using it as an opportunity to distract Michael.

A somber mood had fallen over all of them when they’d returned to the base and Sara had explained in a quietly strained voice that they were waiting on a call from the hospital regarding Michael’s condition.

So now that the call has finally come, they can’t help but watch Michael anxiously as he answers. Mahone sets down the dry-erase marker he had been nervously capping and un-capping, and moves around the table to stand behind Sucre. Sara reaches out for Michael, rubbing at his shoulder, then dropping her hand to squeeze reassuringly at his forearm.

“Yes?” Michael says, “This is he.” A few moments of silence, then, “I think so, yes, but could you-- uh, could you just say that again to my wife? She’s a-- yeah, that’s right. Ok.” Michael hands the phone to Sara, who takes it with a worried glance, and Michael slumps in his chair, covering his face with both hands.

“Mike--?!” Linc strides over to his brother, kneeling down and spinning his brother’s chair so that Michael can fall forward a bit. Lincoln’s hand comes up to cradle the back of Michael’s head, guide his face into Lincoln’s neck.

“S’gonna be OK, Mike. Whatever it is,” Linc mumbles. Lincoln looks desperately at Mahone and Sucre, as though they have any idea of what to do, but before either of them can say anything Sara’s nodding and saying, “Okay. We will. Thank you.”

She hangs up, slowly and carefully sets the phone on the table in front of her, and whispers, “He needs surgery. Tomorrow.” Lincoln grips tighter on the back of Michael’s head and closes his eyes, his face contorting in a look of mingled frustration and fear. Sucre stands, looking between Sara and Michael, and Mahone reaches forward, catches him by the elbow and jerks his head toward the loft.

Sucre hesitates, but follows Mahone up to the spare living space. “What’re we doing man?” Sucre asks.

“Giving them some space,” Mahone answers, then grabs one of the twin-sized cots and drags it up against the one next to it. “Making a bed big enough for an actual grown man to lie down.” 

Sucre chuckles a bit, but any mirth in his expression quickly turns to concern as Michael and Sara ascend the stairs. She has her arm around his waist, but he’s standing on his own. He looks embarrassed in that special Michael way where he literally had himself arrested and put in jail to save his brother, but can’t fathom why anybody would be concerned over his own wellbeing. 

Lincoln hops up the stairs behind them and heads over to the small “kitchen” area to grab a couple of water bottles out of the fridge, which he then carries over to Sara.

“Thanks, Linc,” she says, taking the bottles and setting them down next to the cot. Michael sighs and sits down on the end, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. 

Lincoln walks toward Mahone and Sucre (and the stairs) and murmurs, “C’mon, guys.”

Mahone’s ready to follow, but then Sucre, looking conflicted, bursts out, “I don’t wanna leave!”

Sara and Michael both look up, startled, and Linc frowns in annoyance. “You serious? The plan can wait a day.”

“That’s not what I meant. Just-- this has all happened so fast, in less than a week. We lost Brad...” Sucre wrings his hands a bit, then stuffs them in his pockets, squares his shoulders. “If Michael’s sick I’m gonna stay by his side.”

Lincoln looks like he’s going to pull a Burrows Special and say something truly emotionally stunted or insensitive, so before he can think better of it Mahone says, “I feel the same.”

 _That_ gets him raised eyebrows from everyone but Michael (surprisingly), but it’s true. Mahone has lost so goddamn many people who were important to him -- Lang, his son, Pam (he’s not foolish enough to think that they’ll ever be able to be together again, not after the pain of losing a child). And now, against the odds, a man he was supposed to be hunting down to keep those people safe has joined their numbers. He’s always respected Michael Scofield, even admired him for his brain and his loyalty and his perseverance. Somewhere in Panama that grew into something more -- if you’d asked him this morning he would’ve said it was because working with Michael was his best chance at redemption in the eyes of the law, but he knows, now, looking at the man, that he cares for him. For his wellbeing. 

“Stay,” Michael says, smiling wryly at him and Sucre. “I could use the company.”

Sara settles at the head of the cots with her back to the wall and her legs crossed, and Michael scoots up to lie on his side with his head in her lap. Sucre toes off his shoes then moves to sit up next to Sara, to Michael’s right, so Mahone mirrors that position on his left. Michael peers up at Mahone and their eyes hold for a long moment. When Michael offers him a tentative, grateful little smile, Mahone knocks one of his knees into Michael’s reassuringly, then leaves it resting propped up on the other man’s leg. Contact.

On the other side of Michael, Sucre is leaning against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed. One of his fists is clenched in the neck of his shirt, the other hand has fallen to rest gently on Michael’s shoulder, and his mouth is moving rapidly with silent prayers. 

Surprisingly, the only one who seems uncertain about the situation is Lincoln, who’s still standing by the stairs. He looks conflicted. Guilty, maybe. Mahone did plenty of research on Scofield and Burrows, knows that for much of their childhood they were all each other had. That Michael’s general personality, anxiety and low latent inhibition probably meant he was a child who needed a considerable amount of comfort and care. Even in a situation where they’d lost both parents, Lincoln might still feel that providing that comfort and care to a sibling, and a male sibling at that, was something that would be frowned upon. 

“Linc?” Michael’s voice is quiet, and as uncertain as Mahone has ever heard it. Lincoln hesitates for a second longer, then nods and walks haltingly over to the cot. He sits down at the end, turning toward his brother, drawing one leg up to rest on the bed. After a beat, and some kind of silent conversation with Michael, he rolls his eyes good-naturedly and pulls Michael’s feet into his lap.

“High maintenance,” Linc teases gently. Michael huffs a laugh, but his eyes are already slipping closed, his face going slack. It’s a wonder to Mahone that this man who spends every day assiduously planning, guiding their missions, finding ways out of impossible situations, staying strong for the team, does actually sleep.

Finally, with those who care about him most keeping him grounded, Michael finds it in himself to let his guard down and rest.


End file.
